


Together

by Forestwater, HopefullyPessimistic



Category: Camp Camp (Web Series)
Genre: F/M, Jasper lives au, Jaspid, Jaspidwen, M/M, Multi, OT3, The ot3 you never knew you needed, foster parent au, gwenvid - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-30
Updated: 2017-06-30
Packaged: 2018-11-21 09:25:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,112
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11354571
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Forestwater/pseuds/Forestwater, https://archiveofourown.org/users/HopefullyPessimistic/pseuds/HopefullyPessimistic
Summary: Their story is a lot of things: awkward, romantic, unbearably cheesy. Maybe a little predictable. Maybe a lot ridiculous. But they have something that all good stories should have: each other.





	1. Love

**Author's Note:**

> That's right, the Gwenvid writer and the Jaspid writer have joined forces to give you...Jaspidwen

He loves watching them together.

He loves the way Gwen tugs at Jasper’s ridiculous neon shirts and whines like they’re physically hurting her, and the way he doesn’t even try to hide his smugness the first time he catches her wearing one of them. The fascination they have with each other’s hair: how she’ll fluff it up until he looks like a baby duck, how he’ll try and tame hers into braids and buns. How they end up giving each other the stupidest hairstyles because they know it’ll make David laugh — and how they find it even funnier than he does.

He loves coming home and finding her curled up in Jasper’s lap, his hand resting on her knee like she’s always belonged there, so enraptured by the screen that they hardly notice he’s home until he plops down next to them. Or even better, when they’ve completely forgotten about the TV and for a second he can just watch them talk and laugh and melt together, and it’s as close as he’ll ever get to physically seeing his own heart.

He loves watching them go away. Usually Jasper has an idea for an adventure, and maybe it’s because David’s busy or Max doesn’t care or Gwen’s just looking a little down, but the next thing they know he’s wrapped his bright blue jacket around her shoulders and dragged her out the front door, talking a mile a minute while she laughs. (He loves that she seems happier since they’ve gotten together, and how good Jasper is at teasing smiles out of her.) He loves it even more when they come home, exhausted and hungry and overly affectionate, demanding attention from the pets, from Max, from David. How they’re useless when together, laziness spurring on laziness until all they can do is lay on the floor and throw pillows at each other.

Separately they’re much more gentle, restful, and he loves it.

Together they’re an emotional explosion, and he loves that, too.

* * *

He loves watching them together.

He loves the way Jasper talks to Max, like they’re co-conspirators in some crazy plot. He loves watching Max’s scowl slowly melt into an amused smirk, then finally into an honest-to-God smile. He loves how Max and Gwen team up as the reasonable ones, how they roll their eyes in the exact same way and sigh in unison, and he can’t tell if Max learned it from her or she learned it from him.

He loves watching them try to parent their son together, foul-mouthed pessimism meeting cocky recklessness with a huge spoonful of awkward from both of them. He loves seeing the two of them put their mark on Max, the surprise of seeing Jasper’s smile or hearing Gwen’s favorite curse on the boy’s lips (sometimes at the same time). He loves watching the three of them argue over television or music or fashion or . . . well, anything. They can turn any topic into a debate, and somehow Max always ends up being the tiebreaker.

Max insists it’s a pain in the ass, but he loves it.

So does David.

* * *

 He loves watching them together.

He loves how alike they are, and how different. How Jasper will never go to bed angry while Gwen can hold a grudge for years, so he’ll give up just to make her happy — even though when it had just been him and David he’d been the stubbornest man on earth. How she doesn’t know how to apologize, so they have to learn how to read the insults and the presents found in the pockets of their coats and their coffee ready in the morning just the way they like it. How he begs for attention, as gorgeous and flamboyant as a peacock, and how she’ll hide away in the shadows and wait for all the craziness to die down. How she’s slowly learned how to be happy, and how he can see Jasper’s fingerprints all over her increasingly-frequent smiles.

He loves the way they dote on each other, Jasper obvious and sentimental and effusive with his compliments and gifts, Gwen quietly worrying and miserable whenever one of them’s away. How angry they both get on behalf of their family, his fury bright and explosive as a firework and hers slow and smoldering. How they egg each other on, turning a minor prank or dare or argument into a full-scale melodrama, and how they’ll laugh afterwards at themselves and admit they’d do it again in a heartbeat.

He loves how they compete for his attention in little ways, and how they’ll make peace by sharing him. He loves how being “shared” feels like being smothered and made fun of at the same time, the teasing affection that drapes over and around him like vines, like their limbs and hair and triumphant smiles.

They both have a jealous streak, insecurity hiding under feigned bravado or indifference. It’s like a wounded kitten, this need for validation, and he loves it as much as everything else because it’s part of them.

There’s nothing he’d ever want to change, and he doesn’t know how he ended up loving two people so much.

* * *

 He loves them on their own.

Camp Campbell was full of Gwen, tired and sweaty and desperate from having to pretend to be “just friends” all day. She hits David with the force of a train, leaving him shaking, dizzy, trying to catch his breath. He ends up with scratches and bites and bruises that make him shiver every time he looks at them, because he can remember what each of them felt like and he’d never known being attacked by a wild animal could feel this good.

Home belonged to Jasper, warm and sleepy and gentle. He’s long kisses and surprise tickles and snuggles that slowly heat up, the comfort and security of friendship melting into love that’s silly and romantic and never fails to knock him off guard with the beauty of it. Jasper knows exactly how to touch, knows without words what David needs and is always happy to give it. It’s like they’re one person the way they’re so in sync, the noises and movements as welcome and familiar as a favorite song.

He loves them on their own. But even more, he loves them together.

He loves how shocked Jasper is by her intensity, how the first time she bites him he stares at David like he can’t believe what they’ve stumbled upon. He loves how Gwen is so easily cowed by Jasper’s patience and gentleness, reduced to a whimpering mess by a man who studies his partners like they’re puzzles, learning how to take them apart and put them back together. He loves how they influence each other, Gwen’s kisses becoming softer and Jasper’s touches rougher. He loves the way they both want to be in control, how they debate without words until one of them eventually gives up, and he loves how determined they are to make “losing” worth it.

He loves how they gang up on him. When Max is asleep and he’s trying to read, Jasper will climb into his lap and tease him until he can’t even pretend to focus on the book, knowing where to kiss him to make him lose his ability to think clearly. How they can both feel the heavy, electric stare of bright purple eyes, and how Jasper will turn to her and ask if she’s noticed how _cute_ David gets when he’s flustered. How the two of them act nonchalant and methodical, how with a look and a smile they’ll communicate something he can’t fathom but the next thing he knows he feels like he’s dying and Jasper’s nipping at his ear, whispering that he has to be quiet or they’ll wake the baby, and Gwen’s grabbing both their hands and trying not to laugh as she yanks them back into their bedroom. How one minute they’ll be so wrapped up in each other it’s like David isn’t even there, and in the next they descend upon him with a tunnel-visioned ferocity that would be cruel if it didn’t feel so amazing.

He loves that he’s helpless to say no to them, and that they know it.

* * *

He loves watching them together, even when he’s miles away and can’t do anything _but_ watch.

How they’ll each have different versions of what’s going on at home, totally unaware of how their stories complement and complete one another until it’s like he never left, he can see every detail so clearly. How they talk over each other like it’s the last time they’ll speak to him, like he’s left forever instead of just the summer, how Gwen will pretend she doesn’t miss him or the camp and Jasper will pretend he’s practically suicidal with loneliness. How they’ll bicker, joke, and fight like an old married couple, and it’s funny and sweet and fills him with such longing that it hurts his heart.

How they’ll fawn over Max even more now that he’s away, claiming that he’s the only reason they even bothered to contact David. How Max acts annoyed at all the attention, but never misses a scheduled call and always has a lengthy, complaint-filled report to give on his dad. How Jasper will hold up the cat and dog to the camera to say hi, and David will hold up Platypus, which Max and Gwen always insist is stupid but they both get disappointed if one of animals can’t be found.

How he’ll receive a text that says “DON’T OPEN THIS UNTIL YOU’RE ALONE,” and for a second he wishes he wasn’t at camp but back home with whatever they’ve sent a picture or video of. How sometimes it’s a tease, the two of them with their pinkies interlinked and identical evil smiles, and sometimes . . . it isn’t. How every time he sees them it’s like a punch to the gut, a convulsive shock that never gets easier to take, and if he was asked to pick who was more beautiful he couldn’t do it, not if there was a gun to his head, because somehow he found the only two perfect people in the world and somehow they love him. They love him enough to torment him, shaky-cam videos of sloppy kisses and more, _way_ more, and every time they end by reminding him how much they miss him, and that’s as affecting as anything else in the video.

How more than once he’s had to rest his head on his desk and cry, because it hurts to be somewhere he loves with someone he loves but have his other two favorite people so far away, and he wishes he could carry Jasper and Gwen and Max and Camp Campbell with him everywhere he goes and it’s unfair that he can’t. How, whenever that happens, he’ll receive a picture or a text or a call, and it’s one or both of them and it makes him wonder if they can sense when he needs them. How they know how to make him feel loved, like the luckiest person in the world, and it takes the edge off the hurting because it’s hard to be sad when he has so much.

How sometimes he’ll send them something back, and their responses are as predictable as the rising sun: Jasper goofy and painfully sincere in his adoration, Gwen just a stream of obscenities (that her phone sometimes autocorrects into gibberish), both of them vowing to get revenge at the soonest possible opportunity.

He loves looking forward to whatever they have planned. He loves knowing that his imagination can’t possibly match theirs, because it’s like they’re mad scientists of sex and he’s both awed and slightly terrified at what they do to each other, what they promise to do to him as soon as he gets home, the gorgeous talk that flows from Gwen’s lips like filthy poetry because she has a way with words like nobody he’s ever met, each statement punctuated by Jasper, who plays perfect backup with expressions and gestures that make David laugh and blush at the same time.

“Wish you were here,” Jasper says, tenderly brushing sweat-dampened curls from Gwen’s forehead. She rouses herself enough to blow a weak kiss at the screen, nodding drowsily in agreement.

David wishes he was there too. But it’s okay.

Because he loves watching them together.


	2. Adore

He adores them.

He adores the way David lights up when he talks about Gwen. How even when it was nothing more than a crush and a fleeting hope of something more David spoke about her as if she was the sun and he was illuminated by her very presence. How before he even met her Jasper was already in love with the way she could make his boyfriend feel.

He adores her wit. He adores the way she can make him cry with laughter with only a few words. Gwen smirks and his breath catches in his throat. She has a sharp-tongue and sharper defenses, but somehow, for some reason she trusts him enough to lower them and show her softer side. He doesn’t understand why, but he does his best every day to prove he’s worthy of this gift.

He adores them together. Adores the way Gwen can get David to slow down from his latest idea and breathe. He adores the way David can get Gwen to open up. He adores coming home to the two of them. Seeing them on the couch, David’s head in her lap as she reads from whatever book she has that week. He adores the peaceful look David will have as she reads to him, his eyes closed with a content smile gracing his face. And he adores the bright blush David tries desperately to cover with his hands when Gwen reads something more...provocative.

He adores how they fit together.

***

He adores how they are with Max. How David makes it look so easy. How David saw a boy who needed them and never hesitated for a moment to give him everything he had to offer. David, who has an almost endless patience and tries every single day to be the kind of father that Max deserves. The kind of father that David never had. He adores how David brings out the kindness in Max, how he leads by example without trying to preach. He adores how David means every kind word, every gesture and how Max is slowly starting to realize it.  
He adores how Gwen, even though she worried she would be awful at it, effortlessly slotted herself into their family. How Max and her have a bond from being the “outsiders.” How they look at each other like they’re the only sane people in the room. He adores how they’ve become a team. 

He adores how after just a few years he can see their mannerisms in everything Max does. Every time he snorts at a dumb joke and rolls his eyes – that’s Gwen. Every time Max stands up for the kid on the playground getting picked on or pinches the bridge of his nose in exasperation – that’s David. How every once in a while Max will just stare at them like he can’t believe he’s here with them, that they want him here. When he sees Max get that look Jasper will wrap his arms around him in a loose hug. 

He understands how he feels. 

He feels like that too.

***

He adores them on their own.

He adores the way David and him can have a whole conversation without a single word. How he knows with just a glance how David is feeling. How after years of being together it’s as if they’ve memorized each other, every glance, every smile is like a language of their own and only they are fluent. He adores the way David laughs with everything he has. It’s as if it’s spilling out of him, too much for him to possibly contain. He adores the way David smiles. How he can see the laugh lines around his eyes, proof of how strong he is. That even through all the hardships he’s faced throughout his life, David has always chosen to face it with a smile and a sense of cheer. He adores David’s bravery, his kindness even towards those who don’t deserve it. He makes him want to be a better person, to be worthy of the love David so eagerly, so easily gives him.

He adores how David relaxes around him. How he loses a bit of that artificial cheer and eases into something quieter, more genuine. He adores the trust David’s giving him by showing him. He adores the way they can just sit together without saying a word. That he can wrap his arms around David and stay there for as long as he wants. He adores how easy it is with him. How much it’s like coming home.

He adores the way Gwen always speaks her mind regardless of how anyone else feels. How she refuses to let anyone silence her or her beliefs. He adores her laugh – hard to bring out, but unbelievably worth it. The sound sticks in his ears for hours after hearing it, like bells or wind chimes – melodic and beautiful. He adores every new thing he learns about her; every new fact that helps form a complete picture of her. She’s like a puzzle he’s slowly earning the pieces to and with every new piece he gains the more he falls in love. 

He adores how she just gets him. How she’ll let him drag her off on a journey with no set goals in mind. How if he gives her a certain look he can get her to follow him into the unknown with only minimal complaining. He adores her snark. He adores how something as mundane as watching tv or walking around the mall can be the most entertaining thing he’s ever been a part of so long as Gwen’s beside him. He adores how fun it is with her. How much it’s like starting an adventure.

He adores how they work together. How whenever they’re in the same room Jasper feels as if he’s standing in front of the sun and the moon, both ethereal and enchanting in their own ways, both capable of rendering him speechless. He adores how they’re so different and yet when they come together it’s as if two shapes are sliding into one. He adores how even though they seem to complete each other on their own, when he joins them it doesn’t feel as though they’re forcing themselves to make him fit, instead it’s as if there was always room for him.

He adores the way they love him. The way David pulls him close as Gwen presses kisses against his skin. He adores the way David shifts from innocence to dominance depending on what his partners need. The way he’s gentle even when demanding. The way he makes him feel like he’s made of gold. He adores the way Gwen trusts them to take care of her. Adores how she lets herself give in to being loved, being worshipped. He adores how she worships them in return, how she gets David to blush and stammer. How she gets him to quiet down and do anything she asks. How she takes his breath away with just a touch. He adores how they connect, entwined hands and soft smiles. All for him. He adores how they make him feel like he’s worthy of everything they have to offer.

He adores them with every fiber in his being.


	3. Like

She likes them.

She likes David’s smile, so bright and warm that it makes even her shitty job seem a little less miserable. She isn’t sure when his happiness and energy became infectious instead of exhausting, or when she started relying on it to get her through the day, but at some point she found herself where she is now: always searching for that flash of brilliant white that signifies his presence, never able to conceal her own stupid grin when she gets a call or text from him.

She likes his inability to understand sarcasm, and his unrestrained pride when he manages to land a joke or — God forbid — an innuendo. How despite the terrible influences of herself and Jasper, he still radiates an air of innocence and bashfulness, blushing easily and getting tongue-tied at the slightest prodding. She likes teasing him, watching him grow increasingly flustered and trying desperately to rein her in to something more “appropriate” for children, even if there aren’t any children around.

She likes how Jasper joins in. How he’ll give her a grin that can only be described as “devilish” before turning to David and leaving him speechless with a stupid joke. How she and Jasper have an entire text conversation that’s just them trying to make increasingly stupid orgasm faces, and how he once made her laugh so hard she almost choked by sending her a picture of himself completely expressionless. How they have a complicated language of memes and pop culture references that only they can decipher, and how they’re sometimes called upon to translate each other’s nonsense. How he frequently declares himself the winner of things that aren’t even competitions, and nothing anyone says can convince him he’s wrong.

She likes his confidence. She wishes she could touch him and borrow some of it.

She likes them because they’re nothing like her.

* * *

She likes the way they love each other.

She likes listening to David talk about Jasper, the way his smile softens to something so gentle and quiet that it feels like a secret. She likes teasing him about how smitten he is, watching his face and neck redden with pleased embarrassment. How he’ll jump whenever his phone rings, an awful 90s song she can’t recognize that’s just for Jasper, and will brighten like he’s gotten a call from the great Mr. Campbell himself; how she didn’t know until the first time Jasper called that it was possible to see David even _happier_.

She likes that Jasper can handle David’s energy. That he matches his boyfriend step for step, snarkier and more self-aware but by no means any more mature. She likes watching them bounce off each other, the giddy dizzy stupid-in-love-with-my-best-friend that once sent shards of glass through her chest so painful she couldn’t be in the same room with them, but now just leaves her feeling warm and content. Their affection is contagious, big and encompassing enough that just being near it is like standing by a heat lamp.

She likes the way they can smile like an eternity has passed and yet they’re seeing each other for the first time. How easily they fit together, how painless and automatic and like breathing it looks, but how sometimes they still forget how to speak and get distracted by small things like Jasper’s pretty eyelashes and David’s strong hands. How they still haven’t gotten used to each other.

She likes seeing them sitting on the couch with their heads together, poring over David’s insanely old Pokemon collection and debating how much it’s worth now (not that they’d ever sell it; Jasper just likes the idea of knowing it’s valuable), and how that conversation immediately veers into an argument over which Pokemon are the best of which generation. She likes that this conversation makes absolutely no sense to her, but they follow it like it’s plain and simple logic. She likes that they sometimes get passionate — almost angry — but always end up back at the same place: arms around each other’s shoulders, dopey smiles and tender sighs and inside jokes that are decades old.

She likes that they make her believe true love exists.

* * *

She likes the way they love Max.

She likes watching David talk to him, the way he never kneels down despite their height difference, doesn’t condescend to or patronize the kid — and the way, in return, Max lets his guard down, bit by bit, and allows himself to believe in the possibility that good people exist and that they want to love him. She likes seeing David nurture that, that and everything Max expresses even half an interest in. How he’s his son’s biggest fan and most ardent defender, and even if it can get embarrassing it’s impossible not to get swept up in that much positivity.

She likes watching Jasper casually arrange to be home from work early on days Max wakes up especially stressed or unhappy, how he effortlessly memorizes his son’s comfort items and always has them on hand just in case. How he always has a ridiculous idea for a prank, and how he can always wheedle and cajole Max into going along with it. How if David’s a cheerleader, Jasper’s the best kind of coach, eyeing the path from Point A to Point B and helping Max plan his way around any potential obstacles while David’s still unaware that anything could go wrong and Gwen already would’ve given up.

She likes the way they work together. How Jasper smooths down the rough edges of David’s personality so that his excitement is less grating, his eagerness less oppressive. How he understands instinctively that it can hurt to be believed in, and tempers that enthusiasm with humor and irreverence. She likes that David knows when to be quiet and take a break from joking around, and how with a touch on the arm and a gentle word he can bring Jasper to a halt. That they both understand Max is a volatile substance, an unstable ecosystem, and they carefully weigh their love and support so that it’s just enough, never smothering but always present.

She likes that she can see it working, acceptance and warmth seeping into Max’s roots and spreading out into half-smiles and less cutting remarks. It’s a slow process, easy to miss, but it’s like water bleeding into a painting, the colors of his personality softening and mixing together to create something new and beautiful.

She likes how they’ve helped Max grow into a kid she’s lucky to call a son. And how they make her want to be worthy of being his mom.

* * *

She likes the way they love her.

She likes that they can sense how she worries she’s a third — or fourth — wheel, how no matter how many times they welcome her home or treat her like part of the family she still feels like an interloper, and they have their own ways of reminding her she belongs: when David pecks her on the temple and pulls her into a crushing hug, when Jasper hauls her into his lap and demands she watch cartoons with him, she feels a little bit safer, a little less cracked around the edges. They can silence the bitter little voice in her head, the part of her brain that hates her more than any person possibly could, and she doesn’t think they’re even aware of doing it.

She likes the way they worship her hair. They twine it around their fingers, bury their hands in it up to the wrist, pull it into and out of ponytails so often she’s given up on having a consistent hairstyle for more than five minutes. The way Jasper takes strands and holds them between his nose and upper lip, pretending he has a mustache; the way David immediately has to do the same with an even bigger lock, until she’s attached to two giggling man-children trying to make the most impressive beards out of her hair, turning it into a hopeless mess of knots that they’ll lovingly brush out later.

She likes how they surprise her. How Jasper will send a giant bouquet of flowers to her work with a card longer than most short stories, flowery poems cribbed from Shakespeare that embarrass her in front of her coworkers. How David will deliver the nearest fuzzy animal to her lap when she’s in a bad mood, physically picking up her hand and making her pet it until she’s laughing hard enough to forget whatever had bothered her in the first place. How she’ll be cleaning up the kitchen and they’ll swoop out of the shadows and carry her to bed, because when they work together there’s nothing that can stop them.

She likes how she can surprise them. The pure delight on Jasper’s face when she draws upon her meager confidence and grabs him by the lapels for a kiss, the way she can make David’s jaw drop with a well-placed dirty joke, how she knows the fastest way to make them pay attention to her is to wear one of their shirts as a dress. She likes how Jasper has a weakness for red lipstick and heels that make her taller than him. She likes that David will only swear under very particular conditions, and that she has a talent for making him do it. She likes waking up to the bark of Jasper’s laughter as he realizes she’s left a bite or a hickey he hadn’t noticed. She likes how on the weekends they let her sleep in, David leaves Post-It Notes on her pillow so she never wakes up by herself.

She likes that they don’t mind her being in control, that Jasper is always her partner in crime, that David is their very willing victim. That even when the boys join forces to flip the tables on her, she never feels anything but safe, that they’re the only two people she would ever let see her unravel. That they still treat her like she’s fascinating and beautiful, well after the novelty should’ve worn off, that every night together is somehow still as funny and gorgeous and breathtaking and awkward as the first.

She likes how easy they make loving her seem.

They make her think maybe someday she could do it, too.

* * *

She likes the way they understand that she can’t say “love” yet, that “love” is a lie that’s been carved into her skin with phrases like “do it if you love me” and “no one else will love you like I do.” She likes that they hear “like” and know it means something more, and she likes knowing that when they say “love,” they mean it.

She likes feeling that, someday, she’ll be able to say she loves them too.


	4. Hate

Max hates them.

He hates how sometimes it feels like Jasper knows exactly what he’s thinking even when he hasn’t said a word. He hates that he’s apparently so easy to read. He hates that Jasper will go out of his way to make his favorite meal when he knows Max has had a bad day. He hates that the one time he couldn’t, it was because he had the flu and he felt guilty about it for a week. He hates that he even has the ability to make Jasper feel guilty. 

He hates that he can quote just about any line from _Hey Arnold_ without thinking about it. He hates that he had never even heard of _Hey Arnold_ until he found Jasper watching it in the living room one night when he couldn’t sleep. He hates that instead of yelling at him for being out of bed on a school night, Jasper just smiled at him, patted the seat next to him and let him join. He hates that now whenever he can’t sleep – whether from a nightmare or insomnia – he just goes downstairs and watches the show with him. He hates how comforting the routine is.

He hates how caring David is. He hates that no matter what he says or what he does David never looks at him like a mistake. He hates that when David was younger he was hurt. He hates that David was hurt by someone who was supposed to protect him, but didn’t. He hates that he knows what that feels like. He hates that David does too. He hates that despite all the bullshit he’s been through David is still kind, that he still cares. He hates that David decided that he was worth caring about. He hates how he can’t even pretend anymore that it’s just because he’s one of his campers.

He hates that whenever they go to the store it becomes a game to see who can get more junk food in the cart before Jasper notices. He hates that he looks forward to this every time he notices they’re running low on milk. He hates how whenever he gets too stressed out he just picks up some yarn and knits. He hates how relaxing it is to him. He hates that the only reason he even knows how to knit at all is because David taught him. He hates that sometimes David will see him knitting and sit down to join him without saying a word. He hates that it’s one of the few times David is quiet around him. He hates that it’s just as comforting as staying up with Jasper.

He hates how honest Gwen is with him. How when she first started showing up at the house she made sure he knew that she wasn’t trying to become his new mother. He hates how much that relieved him at first. He hates that after really getting to know Gwen and getting used to her always being around the words weren’t a relief anymore. He hates that she was smart enough to figure that out. He hates that instead of getting freaked out and pulling away from everyone she sat him down and told him in no uncertain terms that he could call her whatever the hell he wanted and she wasn’t going to go anywhere. He hates that when he does call her mom she always smiles back at him, even when they’re arguing. He hates that she understands that he needs that reassurance. He hates that she understands him. 

He hates that she’s nice to him. He hates that out of the three of them she should be the one to tell him to fuck off. That David’s too nice and Jasper’s too naive, but Gwen should know that he’s a lost cause. She should know that he ruins things and if she’s as smart as he knows she is, she’ll finally convince them to get rid of him. He hates that she refuses to do that. He hates that when he finally called her out on it, Gwen called him an idiot and pulled him into a hug. He hates that he apparently gives off the air that he needs hugs. He hates that the hugs actually help. He hates that she makes him feel wanted. He hates that she makes him feel stupid for not knowing he’s wanted.

***

He hates the way they all act towards him. 

He hates how whenever one of them realizes he’s overwhelmed they’ll pull the others back to make sure he can get his space. He hates that he has his own routine with every one of them. He hates that after a long day at school, the thought of going home and seeing everyone calms him down a bit. He hates that he refers to their house as home. He hates that he can’t quite remember when he started doing it. 

He hates how every time one of them refers to him as their son, that cold, empty feeling inside gets a little smaller, a little bit easier to deal with. He hates how they get him to laugh. How a dumb joke from Jasper or a snarky comment from Gwen or even just David being clumsy can get him to giggle no matter how much he fights it. He hates that when he does laugh they always look so damn proud of themselves, like they’ve won something amazing. He hates that they make him laughing at something stupid seem like their greatest accomplishment. He hates how he can’t decide if that makes him want to laugh more or less.

He hates how they chose him. How they gave him a home and a family and never asked for anything in return. He hates the love they so freely give to him. The love that’s so tender, so strong, he feels like he’s drowning in it. He hates that he can never pay them back. He hates that they don’t expect him to. 

He hates – what he really, really hates the most – is that he doesn’t hate them at all.


End file.
